


Villain Academy

by BananaGhoul



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Feefshipping, Humor, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, Smut, Thiefshipping, academy au, evil villainy, mariks evil council meets anime tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:44:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaGhoul/pseuds/BananaGhoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being contractually bound to attend Pegasus's school for evil villains, Bakura has no choice but to partner with Marik in order to escape and reclaim his precious screentime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Quest for Screentime

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on Yu-Gi-Oh! The Abridged series, created by LittleKuriboh. I owe my respect and appreciation to him as well as Kazuki Takahashi, the creator of Yu-Gi-Oh. Both of these lovely people have managed to create things that have walked me through some of my darkest times.
> 
> I can only hope that someday my works will have the same effects on others.

 Credit goes to [Vaguelygenius](http://vaguelygenius.tumblr.com/) for the 3D wax seal design as well as the overall image design. Thank you so much for your hard work!

 

 

> Darling Bakura,
> 
> Here at Villain Academy, it is our pleasure to ensure every pupil's success in the rapidly growing art of evil-doing. From the episodic, to the well established, no antagonist is left behind. Our courses are catered toward bringing you closer to the power you desire, and setting you up on a lifelong path of gray morality and blood-red vengeance.
> 
> It is with great honor that I, Maximillion Pegasus, invite you to attend our prestigious institute. Given your background and expertise, our alumni would simply be incomplete without you. Best of luck.
> 
> M. Pegasus

Bakura's fingertips wore welts into the invitation letter as he watched the final remnants of Domino's cityscape fade into the distance. Resting his head against the glass of the train window, his eyes were soothed by the growing cover of forest. A long sigh escaped his lips.

It still didn't make any sense to him.

He had tossed the school's brochure out months ago. Applying was out of the question. Even the self-proclaimed _academy for villains_ sounded painfully contrived to him. It was an attraction for wannabes. A place characters could retreat to for the purpose of putting off their arcs—and while that certainly resonated with him, Bakura knew he was a higher class antagonist than that lot.

Yet, a month after the supposed start of the term, the admission letter had arrived at his doorstep atop a small package. The perfume infused envelope was enough for him to know the sender. The vile, flowery aroma still managed to cling to the letter in his hand.

At first he thought to throw the whole thing out just as he had done to the pamphlet. But, that was when an idea had struck him. A rather good one, he believed.

And so there he was, en route to the critically acclaimed institution of higher learning for evil-doers. A decision he had his reasoning for. A sly smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Sir, could I get you something to—”

Bakura's head snapped in the attendant's direction, eyes piercing the young woman's with a thin, icy glare. Rather than continuing her question, she turned her gaze forward and proceeded down the aisle to the passenger seated behind him.

Pleased with himself, Bakura jammed the pale, scented parchment into his duffel bag guarding the otherwise empty seat beside him. A school for evil? He scoffed at the thought. He didn't need school for that.

After a long while, just as he lost the fight to keep his eyelids open, a sudden burst of light had them wide once again. The train had cleared the forest, and the seemingly endless whir of trees on the other side of the glass made way for a sunny, green pasture of tall rolling grass. He winced, brow furrowed. Over a loudspeaker, the conductor announced that their next stop, Villain Academy, was only moments away.

And that was when he saw it.

It appeared ahead of him almost as if it had materialized among the hills; a product of the harsh sunlight and his dreamy vision. A mirage, at best. Though as the train grew closer, the solid presence of the castle was undeniable. He could barely take it in all at once.

Its golden bricks rose from the ground, stretching upward into several spires and turrets surrounding a central, enormous building looming almost as high. Dozens of lancet windows glowed and glittered from its walls. Birds fluttered through the air and picked through the fields. Cherry trees in full bloom flanked the front gates, through which a cobblestone path trailed.

Bakura cringed.

Rather than an institution of adversity, it was more or less something straight out of an anime. The kind Bakura did his best to avoid. The kind Pegasus would certainly model his school after. He should have known it would look nothing like the picture from the brochure; a menacing tower atop a rocky cliff, shrouded in a thick, rancid fog. No. This place with its shining and positive aura was far more unpleasant.

When the train came to a halt, he clutched the strap of his duffel bag as he considered not getting off. Something wasn't sitting right with him. He wasn't meant to be in a place like this. He was The Darkness. He was _British_. He had dignity.

But, above all else, he had a job to do. A record to set straight. Something that needed to be done. With an indignant breath, he got to his feet.

 

The clean and fragrant air upset Bakura's sinuses. He rubbed his eyes, leering in the direction of the nearby cherry trees as he crossed through a golden filigree gate. He wouldn't be there for long, he assured himself. He _definitely_ wasn't planning on attending classes.

The front courtyard was no different than the exterior of the school. Except there were somehow _more_ flowers. And, this time, other students. He had never seen so many robes and weapons and grim dispositions all in one place in his entire life. Most talked amongst themselves, while others sat on their own, plotting. He recognized only a couple, but he didn't care to think much into it.

Suddenly remembering a map on the opposite side, Bakura struggled to retrieve the invitation letter from his bag without taking it off of his shoulder.

That was when an all too familiar voice stopped him in his tracks, and he fumbled, slicing his finger on the parchment's edge. It was one _hell_ of a voice, all right. Undoubtedly one of the most recognizable voices he had ever encountered. Hearing it again sent a pang of electricity down his spine. His head snapped upward, teeth gritted, but Bakura's jaw went slack when he saw him.

“ _Marik's Evil Club! Together we will destroy The Pharaoh!_ ” The words echoed through the courtyard.

It was like some kind of slow-motion sequence; the way Marik turned on his heels in front of him, fliers in hand. Cherry blossoms floated around Bakura with an incoming breeze, and the letter whipped back and forth in his fingers. His pupils dilated and for the first time in a long while, he could sense his own heartbeat. A breath caught somewhere in his throat as he gazed at his ex-counterpart, pale brown eyes caught on the way Marik's exposed skin absorbed the rays of sunlight.

“ _This afternoon in the North Wing! Room 135! There will—_ What the actual _frig_ are you doing here?”

Time came crashing back to its normal pace. How long had it been? Months, maybe. The last they had seen of each other was that night on the blimp during Battle City. The night they had their asses handed to them by Melvin.

Bakura opened his mouth and then closed it. He never pictured seeing Marik again, especially after Marik sided with Yugi in the end. “I was about to ask you the same question,” he managed to say coolly.

Marik raised his eyebrows, shifting his weight onto his right side. “Why _wouldn't_ I be here? You obviously don't remember, but being an evil villain is, like, _my thing_.”

“I was under the impression you _learn_ how to be a villain here—”

“Silence!” Marik's empty hand clenched into a fist. The other students in the courtyard paused for a moment, surprised by the sharp rise in his voice. He quickly collected himself. “And how's anime's longest procrastination session going for you?”

Bakura's brow twitched. “It's going quite well, actually. I'm just about to get to the part where I take this bloody show back.”

“It only took you, like, _two seasons_.” Marik laughed.

Bakura responded with a deadpan expression. His fingers dug into the paper in his hand.

“You know, Bakura, with a look like that, you would totally fit in at my evil club.” Marik held out a single flier. A hand-drawn picture of himself in crayon adorned the front. “Today we'll have juice boxes. _Evil_ juice boxes. With bendy straws. _Evil_ bendy--”

“Why did I even bother?” Bakuramuttered, the words sounding more like a statement than a question.

Marik continued, noticeably taken aback by Bakura's tone: “I'll have you know, my Evil Club is in the _top_ _percentage_ of evil clubs. _Everyone_ raves about it. You should hear them. ' _Marik's washboard abs are the best part_ ,' they say. I would know because they rave rather loudly. All the time. It gets kind of annoying sometimes, you know, hearing about how awesome you are—Where do you think you're going?!”

Bakura was already a speck in the distance, teeth gnashed. Now he remembered. Marik's voice. His incessant voice. His outrageous mannerisms. His over-the-top style. The way he rolled his R's, but not every R. Just the ones he felt like. The way Marik never seemed to take him seriously. He could still hear the boy in the distance: “Fine, consider yourself _uninvited_ to my club!”

If he hadn't looked up from the ground, Bakura would have walked directly into the pale, elegantly carved front door of the castle. The image of a cartoon rabbit preparing to throw a spherical bomb decorated the painted wood. Its wild eyes looked directly into his own.

“... Right,” Bakura muttered. Marik wasn't what he had come to Villain Academy for. In fact, he had a suspicion they wouldn't see much of each other after that day. His plans didn't allow for catching up with romantic interests, especially the kind that believed forming an _Evil Club_ was a good way to pass time at a school supposedly for elite villains. He scoffed, hiking the duffel bag's strap higher onto his shoulder. Bakura's plans were much more enticing.

Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he turned the latch, swinging the door open.

And he fell into an empty, black void.

 

“Oooh, _fabulous_ of you to make it, Bakura.” The voice, although familiar, held a strange quality as it echoed through the air. A cold, humming silence filled the gaps between each word. “ _Wakey wakey_ , you know I don't have all day.”

Bakura jolted into awareness, eyes barely slitted against the sudden light. “ _What... What is..._ ” The grogginess in his own voice surprised him. A blurry scene sat before him, one that only squeezing his eyes shut could remedy. When his vision cleared,he realized he was sitting at a long, polished cherry-wood table. At the opposite end Pegasus held a glass of red wine to his lips, eyebrows raised.

“Not the meeting you planned, is it?” Pegasus lilted, sipping at his drink.

Leaning forward in his chair, Bakura turned his head from side to side. They were surrounded by murky shadows. A place he was awfully acquainted with. He touched his own shoulder but could no longer feel the strap of his luggage. “I guess I should have seen this coming,” a toothy grin overcame him, “though do you _really_ expect the shadows to scare me? Fire cannot kill a--”

“And I thought you were better than Game of Thrones references.” Pegasus shrugged.

Bakura looked over the side of his chair and felt underneath, stomach knotting in frustration.

“No need to worry about your bag. Its _contents_ are safe with me.” Something lethal lay in the midst of his words.

No.

Bakura could barely breathe.

Pegasus couldn't have it. Bakura was sure of it. He passed a glance under the table and all around himself once more. He couldn't let this happen. Not after all the trouble he went through to get the bloody thing in the first place. This had to have been a dream.

“So, tell me, Bakura,” Pegasus spoke as he absentmindedly swirled the wine in his cup, “Would you mind explaining what you were planning to use it for?”

Bakura folded his arms and ground himself back into the seat, squinting in the headmaster's direction. There was no way his best weapon was snatched from him so easily. It was his ticket to guaranteed success. It was his purpose for traveling this far to begin with. “Here's a better question: what do you want from me?”

Pegasus tutted discontentedly. “ _Someone_ didn't watch the videotape I sent them.”

“My VCR's been broken since 2005, I'm afraid.” Bakura shrugged. “I've been trying out the whole Blu-Ray thing lately—perhaps you should do the same.”

Drawing in a long breath, Pegasus relaxed back into his chair, ignoring Bakura's continued attempts to locate the bag that was taken from him. “I have a very important appointment to get to, so I'm going to make this brief.” He crossed his right leg over his left. “I'm sure you're aware the writers are working onSeason 5 whilst our friends are having fun with Dartz.”

Bakura bristled. He knew Pegasus could see right through him.

The headmaster continued. “I know your precious screentime has always been a touchy subject, e _specially_ since you weren't written into Season 4.”

“To be fair, I missed the deadline for--”

“You've spent all this time putting off your villainous comeback that the writers have forgotten about you. It must be like a _nightmare_ , am I right?” Pegasus twirled a lock of his own hair between his fingers, expression disinterested. “Being denied the one thing you desire most.”

“I just want what was promised in my bloody--” He paused. Bakura's jaw was so tight his ears ached. “What's your point, Pegasus?”

Pegasus smiled, sipping his wine slowly enough to send Bakura into deeper annoyance. “Mmm. My point is I'm trying to help you.”

“Oh?”

“It's not always easy being out of the spotlight—I know _I_ can't stand it. And that's why I invited you here, to a place where you can shine. A place where the writers will spot you and no doubt offer you the role you deserve in the final season—as the final villain.”

Bakura's fingers clenched the armrests at his sides. “I can't say I trust you, to be honest.”

“I _know_ that, but the deal I'm offering is one you cannot refuse.”

And just then, a pale sheet of parchment not unlike the one Bakura's admission letter was printed on appeared and unfurled before him, seemingly suspended in the air. Text so tiny he could barely make out the words filled the page, drawing his eyes downward to the thick line at the very bottom.

“If you take part in my Villain Academy and pass, the role of Season 5's ultimate villain belongs to you.”

Bakura couldn't focus on the print before him. All he knew were Pegasus's words. _The role of Season 5's ultimate villain belongs to you_... Bakura knew it belonged to him. He knew it like he knew the color of the sky. He was meant for the role. It was his entire purpose. And he wasn't about to let the writers forget that. It was the whole reason he hauled himself miles away from Domino to Pegasus's supposed evil institute: to use his weapon to take over the school and overthrow Pegasus. To stand out to the writers. To demonstrate his superiority.

But maybe he didn't need all of that.

“...There has to be a catch.”

Pegasus shook his head, eyes flicking up to match Bakura's, though Bakura's still hung on the contract before him. In that instant, the sheet furled once more and Pegasus dropped the snake of hair curled around his index finger so that the document could appear in his grasp. He reopened it and looked over his own words. “Nope, I wouldn't say I see a single catch listed here. Only opportunities.”

“I just don't understand why you're being so _generous_ ,” Bakura shot back.

“With a villain of your status, Bakura, you deserve a little recognition... I just think you should work for it.”

Silence permeated the thick air around them.

“So what you're saying is... All I need to do is attend your school, and I'm guaranteed my screentime?”

“It would seem so.”

Bakura considered this. Sitting through a few lectures was an easy trade for supremacy. And being offered that supremacy by Pegasus... It was certainly an idea he reveled in. Perhaps Pegasus would make a nice lackey once Bakura held power. _You deserve a little recognition_. He deserved every bit of recognition. He was _owed_ recognition.

“So, do you consent?”

“Yes.” The word came out of his mouth before Bakura could even think to say it. In fact, it shocked him. Though, what shocked him even more was when Pegasus turned the document around and faced it to him. At the bottom, Bakura's own signature, written in fine, red script crawled across the bottom line. “ _How did_ \--”

“What does it matter?” Pegasus shrugged. “You've consented. And now, _you're mine_.”

“Okay now that just sounds--”

Pegasus stood from his seat, the contract vanishing. “I know it's hard for you, but try your best to make friends. You'll be here for a while.” He laughed, soft and airy. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the writers. Can you believe they're considering me for the role of Season 5's villain?”

Bakura's breath caught in his throat. He tensed to stand but his body was being held firmly in place by an unseen force. “ _What in the BLOODY HELL_ \--”

“Let's just say this is an _eye for an eye_ , my friend.” Pegasus smiled softly, like a real asshole. “Come now, Bakura, that venomous look could wreak havoc on your complexion. Toodles!”

Before the shout buried in Bakura's throat could rise to the surface, a bright flash surprised him, and he awoke back at the front entrance, Funny Bunny's beady eyes glowering down at him. He jumped backward, spinning around to meet the same courtyard from earlier, this time void of most of the students he had seen previously. Long shadows cast from the trees and rose bushes.

“That... That good for nothing... That...,” Bakura could barely get the words out. He launched into a sprint, tearing through the garden and up the cobblestone path to the wire gate, fixated on the train stop visible in the distance.

However, his legs grew heavy. So heavy, that lifting his feet became an absolute struggle the closer he drew, like someone had tied weights to his ankles. He broke out into a sweat as each footfall took twice as long as the last, and his breaths became exasperated. It was as if he no longer had control of himself; as if his body disagreed with the actions he was taking. Just an arm's span away from the gate, he was stopped completely.

Anger boiled within him. “That bastard is keeping me busy while he... While he....”

Bakura dropped to the ground with a hard thud, muttering darkly as he willed himself to think through everything that had just happened. “ _WHY CAN'T I MOVE MY DAMNED LEGS--”_

 

 _“So then_ , I walked up to the _Five Items or Fewer_ line with _six_ juice boxes, and the--”

“ _On the moon we do not require such primitive concepts as forming lines_.”

“It's a waste, man!”

“Toh-tally a waste. In fact, we receive _everything we could possibly need_ on the moon, the very moment we desire it--”

“Instant gratification!”

“That is correct, Steve. Instant graphination.”

“Would you two stop interrupting my frigging stories. For crying out loud, it's like the most annoying peanut gallery in the entire universe.”

“ _Brains? Brains Brains Brains!”**_

Various familiar voices picked up at this, the shrill of Marik's cries clumsily attempting to quiet them all down.

Leaning his weight against the wall outside the classroom, Bakura could hardly control how hard he dug his fingers into his palms. A sign drawn in marker taped to the cracked door beside him spelled out: EVIL IN SESSION. Though, most of what he had heard since he finally located the North Wing was disjointed harmless banter. He couldn't say he was in the least bit surprised.

“Okay, you know what, club is dismissed.” The door swung open. “We might have actually figured out how to defeat the pharaoh today if it wasn't for all of your _rude_ interruptions.”

Characters Bakura remembered all too well from earlier seasons traipsed out one by one: the Mooninites, Zombie Boy, and... someone he didn't quite know. Bakura turned his eyes away, avoiding contact with any of them, and then rounded the corner into the classroom.

Standing at the teachers' podium, Marik rolled his eyes upon seeing Bakura. “You're too late--today's meeting is over and even if you were on time you wouldn't be allowed in because I uninvited you, remember?”

“Yes, yes, I remember quite well, actually,” Bakura replied, folding his arms. Heavy sunlight shafted through the windows to his left, bathing them both in a golden glow. “Though I'm not here for your... _club_.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“ _Cluuub_ ,” Marik said, over-exaggerating Bakura's condescending tone, purposely drawing out the single syllable.

Bakura sighed, rolling his shoulders back. “It's just... Well, don't you think 'Council' would have sounded a little more... I don't know, _professional_?”

“What are you trying to get at?”

“I'm not trying—Listen, Marik. Stay on focus. I need your help.”

“Oh so now you want _help_.” Marik threw his hands out in front of him. “Next, you're going to want to take over France, and after that you'll want to pull The Legend of Korra from Nickelodeon's broadcast schedule and dump all the episodes onto Nick.com.”

“I need you to help me get out of here.”

Studying Bakura's expressions, Marik cocked an eyebrow. “ _Help_ _you get out of here_? What is that supposed to mean?”

Bakura shook his head and sighed heavily. “Pegasus trapped me--I can't leave the campus. It's physically impossible.”

“And how am I supposed to help you?”

Bakura breathed, trying not to get too worked up—mostly trying not to let it show that he was already worked up. In the back of his mind he could imagine Pegasus signing _his_ contract for the final season. The thought boiled his blood. He couldn't have his screentime taken away. He couldn't let the writers forget about him. He couldn't let Pegasus do this. “I need you to help me take back something he stole from me—something that will fix all of this.”

“And what would that be?”

“It's a Plot Device.”

Marik paused for effect before breaking into the laugh Bakura remembered all too well. “Don't be silly, Bakura! You already have one of those around your neck!”

Bakura stared. “ _This_ Plot Device is different. This one is designed to change _everything_ in my favor.”

“And what makes you think Pegasus isn't going to use it himself?”

“I know he won't use it because he can't. It's locked.”

Eyebrow cocked, Marik relaxed against the podium. A stream of sunlight rested across his face. “This is sounding like one of those weird fanfictions that takes itself way too seriously.”

“Breaking the fourth wall is very _last fic_ of you, Marik.”

“I wasn't breaking the fourth wall, I was hinting at the fourth wall. _You're_ the one breaking the fourth wall.”

Bakura rubbed his temples, cursing under his breath. “Will you help me steal the blasted thing back or not?”

Marik thought this over and then a genuine smile came across his face. “Under one condition.”

 

** “Peanuts? I'm allergic to peanuts.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, here we are again! Not gonna lie, when I wrote my last long fic I never thought I'd be writing another! My second baby. What a time to be alive!


	2. Kiss Kiss Fall in Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with the new chapter! This one took longer than expected--it was a rough couple weeks for me OTL.
> 
> ***Please read the end note for an important update regarding the future of my fics****

_Once again, thank you,[VaguelyGenius](vaguelygenius.tumblr.com), for your wonderful work on the title cards! <3_

 

“ _Oh, come on, Bakura!_ ” Marik's voice echoed through the corridor. He paused just after stepping out of the classroom, arms out in front of him and eyebrows raised. “You always ruin my fun.”

Bakura managed to trudge his way a great distance from the classroom before he stopped himself mid stride and whirled around. Somehow the air felt colder than it did on his way to find Marik. Fuming, his arms stuck down at his sides. “Oh, yes, _your fun_. I almost forgot that _you're_ the one this is all about, apparently. Meanwhile, _I'm_ stuck at this buggering school against _my_   will, and _I'm_ giving up my dignity to ask _you_ for help, and _you're_ telling me you suddenly have _one_   _condition_ \--”

“I mean, it's not much.” Marik cut him off, a somewhat indifferent expression now played on his features. Bakura halted his own tirade, eying Marik as if to tell him to continue. Marik folded his arms. “I'll help you get your... _whatever you said it was_ back if you join my club.”

Silence.

“Come on, I'd say it's a good deal!”

Bakura softened only for a moment, realizing Marik's genuine disposition. His heart ached as he got a good look at the way Marik's forehead creased in the dimming sunlight pouring in from the windows at their side. Bakura grunted, trying to keep his thoughts away from those things. “Why would you even expect me to join your club, Marik? I don't plan on staying here long enough for it to even matter in the slightest... And what _does_ it matter, anyway? You uninvited me, remember?”

“Sheesh, it's called reverse psychology.” Marik turned his gaze to the windows, eyes shimmering. It took him a moment to gather what he was going to say. “We're... Okay, I'll admit it... my club isn't as... popular as I said,” his words were quick between each pause, as if admitting it aloud was the same as admitting defeat. “We don't have enough members, and... Pegasus says we'll have to disband if we don't reach 10 by the end of the month.”

Bakura sniffed, eyebrow twitching. “Marik, I'll be blunt with you. I'm not going to stay _that_ long. I want to get out of this bloody place sooner rather than later if I can help it. There's no point in being part of your club... And to be honest, there's no point in you being at this school, either.”

“ _Excuse you_ , my reputation is what got me _invited_ to this school. You just friggin showed up. No one asked you to--.”

“See!” Bakura pointed. “And I bet Pegasus trapped you in the shadows and had you sign a contract when you got here!”

Marik touched his chin, attempting to remember the events leading him to Villain Academy. Several beats later he perked up as the memory came to him. “Actually I remember watching a videotape I got in the mail.”

Bakura's eyes were wide, recalling the VHS he couldn't even watch--not that he wanted to watch it in the first place. “And what was on the videotape?”

“I don't know, the VCR stopped working, like, three seconds into it—I tried hitting it and everything, just like the internet told me to do, but it just wasn't going anywhere.”

Releasing a deep sigh, Bakura pinched the bridge of his nose.

Marik picked back up again: “But it was okay because I planned on coming here anyway.”

“That's just great, Marik. You played right into Pegasus's trap.”

“Now that's ridiculous, Bakura. Why would Pegasus trap me here? Ra knows I'll be graduating early since I am just so good at evil things.”

“Have you _tried_ leaving school grounds?”

“Well, no--”

“Then how in the bloody hell do you know? Pegasus is... There isn't a doubt in my mind he's trapping every villain here to weed out the competition... so he can be the only star of the final season... He's probably--” Bakura stopped himself. Judging by the expression on Marik's face it was clear he wasn't convincing him.

He should have known this was going to happen. Nothing ever turned out the way he planned. Bakura was stuck, and the one person he missed— _needed—_ the most was doing what they did best: _pissing him the hell off_.

“Anyway...” Marik smoothed his hair back. “Just hear me out, Bakura. I'm only asking you to help us recruit more members. You don't have to stay. Just think, the sooner you bring five more people on, the sooner we'll help you break free.”

Bakura was caving. As much as he dreaded the idea of immersing himself in Marik's club, and Marik's company, once again... He had to admit, it was the best deal he had heard all day; the only deal he knew he could trust in the slightest. He rubbed his temples, recalling the last time he let his feelings dictate his actions. Losing to Melvin cost him so many episodes of sweet screentime.

But, he had no other option. Deep down, as much as he didn't want to admit it, Bakura knew he couldn't do it alone.

“All right.” His voice was nearly inaudible.

Marik perked up. “What was that?”

“I said 'all right.'”

“'All right' to what?”

Bakura ground his teeth. “To your club.”

“Complete sentence.” A grin spread across Marik's lips.

Sighing. “I'll join your club.”

“Say, 'I, Florence, agree to join your Amazingly Sexy and Cool Sounding Super Evil--”

“What I said was enough, Marik.”

“Oh, come on!”

 

On the far side of the Villain Academy campus, tucked away amongst a thick cluster of cherry and maple trees, a single, snaking building of three floors held its ground. Red and shimmering gold details etched into its siding caught the dying sunlight and appeared to burn and smolder with the daytime's final breaths. Several dormers stretched up along the roof on both sides of the building and radiated as if to signal its existence to the rest of the world. It was none other than the Villain Academy Dormitory.

Walking steadily on the cobblestone path, Bakura tried his best to convince himself that he wasn't about to spend a night at Pegasus's ridiculous school--though he was forced to accept it after listening to fifteen minutes of Marik's “orientation speech” the whole way from the North Wing.

“... So, I always say you should just go with the speedo; it really shows off what you have to offer—And here we are!” Marik announced as they reached the main entrance to the grandiose building. Gaping upward at its three stories, Bakura couldn't help but wonder exactly how many villains were pulled into Pegasus's trap. There seemed to be enough space for every character from the Yu-Gi-Oh franchise, let alone just the villains.

“Well I can't say I wasn't expecting anything less--” Bakura's words trailed off as he caught sight of Marik again, who had then skipped up the three steps leading to the doors. It was then that the true gravity of the situation occurred to him.

Bakura was struggling against quicksand in the confines of his own mind. At first he thought he was pulled back into it by his circumstances, but now he understood. He had never left its pull. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that Battle City was over... It wasn't over.

Face tinged a deep pink, he couldn't help but drink the sight of Marik in, as if he hadn't had a taste of water in weeks and before him sat a tall, crystal clear glass of it. The various contours of Marik's stomach, the way Marik's eyes always seemed so bright and full of life--not to mention sass, the way Marik's tight pants gripped at his hips in ways Bakura only ever experienced in his dreams. Marik was by far the toughest quicksand he'd ever encountered.

He was everything Bakura yearned to chase after.

As Marik reached for the handle of the door, his body swiveled slightly in Bakura's direction. “What room are you in?” Marik paused and then snorted loudly upon getting a good look at Bakura, who stood absentmindedly at the bottom of the steps. “Is that a Millennium Rod in your pocket or are you--”

He was so bloody frustrating.

“ _Room 203_ ,” Bakura interjected as he pushed past Marik, willing himself to calm down. This wasn't what he had come to Villain Academy for. None of this was. He never expected to see Marik again, and he certainly never expected to feel this way again anytime soon. He entered the building and found himself in a large lobby with pearly granite floors and a crimson red carpet extending far back and up two sets of spiral staircases.

“ _Um excuse me,_ that's _my_ room,” Marik called out as he traipsed in after him.

Stopped in place, Bakura turned slowly to look at Marik again. “What was that?”

“203 can't be your room because it's mine,” Marik replied coolly, though a considerate expression came over him and his brow furrowed. “I mean, I do have that second bed but I'm pretty sure it was meant for slumber parties.” He laughed suddenly. “They say we can't jump on them but sometimes I jump on that one anyway because I don't give a--”

“So we're roommates.” Bakura wasn't in the least bit surprised, though he rubbed his temples scornfully. Things always turned out this way with Marik. Always a coincidence.

Marik folded his arms and began ascending the spiral staircase ahead of Bakura. “I mean you can't really blame me for jumping on the bed, and honestly you should thank me for basically testing it out for you—Are you coming?”

“I wish,” Bakura muttered only to himself before following Marik up the steps.

If fate existed, it most certainly had something against him. Either that, or it was a thiefshipper.

Upon reaching the next floor and locating the second room on the right, Marik pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked it, flicking on the lights as he reached inside. A sudden sharp set of chirps had Bakura taking a step backward in surprise. “What in the bloody hell was--”

“Mr Tweetums, this is our new roommate,” Marik announced as he led the way into the slightly disheveled room. It was bare-bones, to the say the least. A single window on the wall facing the door, a bed on either side, each paired with a small dresser and desk. Though what stuck out to Bakura was the massive birdcage on the desk to his left. A tiny tan and brown bird perching within eyed him curiously as it pecked at a dangling pink toy.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Bakura remarked, craning his neck so he could look in at the thing.

Marik folded his arms. “Harry Potter had Hedwig; I have Mr Tweetums.”

“Harry Potter was a wizard, Marik... And Hedwig was an owl--”

“Yes, Mr Tweetums, he always ruins everyone's fun like this,” Marik said, waving his new roommate off. Almost as if it was in response, the bird chirped and flexed its speckled wings. “Mr Tweetums says he'll forgive you this one time.”

Bakura drew in a long breath and tried to suppress one of his usual eye-rolls. “What a relief.”

“I taught him to talk, you know.”

“Yes, I heard just now.”

“ _No_ , like _real_ words.”

Instead of responding, Bakura turned his attention back to their room. From the looks of it, the bed on the east wall was his, considering the sheets weren't strewn about in the way that the other bed's were—though it was still rather wrinkled and unkempt. His side of the room felt too _clean_ to him. Sterile, in a way.

“Oohh, yeah, that's your bed. I only jumped on it once, I promise,” Marik said with a hint of a smile in his voice as he kicked something under his own bed. “And the bathroom's down the hall.”

Bakura paused. “Don't tell me it's communal.”

“Oh, it's communal all right!” Marik fell backward onto his bed, nearly bashing the back of his head against the wall. “I know it's hard to resist, but try not to make it creepy when I get undressed for my showers—wouldn't want anyone thinking I'm gay, which I'm not.”

Bakura grunted, heat rising to his cheeks. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“And I usually have my After Shower Naked Power Hour when I finish getting my behind squeaky clean. There's nothing quite like letting The Goods breathe after being confined in--”

“Marik.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

 _What am I thinking?_ Bakura wanted to kick himself. He didn't have time for this. He had a feeling finding new members for Marik's Evil Club wouldn't be difficult. He'd get them to ten and then he'd get his ass out of there. That was the plan. The school was brimming with evil-doers. Surely five more would be interested. He could feel himself begin to crack under the pressure of his own frustration.

He sat on the edge of his bed, and then turned to lie back against his pillow in hopes it would keep his eyes away from Marik's reclined body.

After Battle City, Bakura had told himself distance would change things. Working alone was all he needed. That and a long, cold shower. But, little did he know that being reunited with Marik after all those months would feel no different from the days they spent together back then. It was as if nothing had changed at all.

And it killed him.

“Might as well get some beauty rest, eh, Bakura? Not that it will do you much good,” Marik laughed at his own joke, and peeked up at his roommate when he wasn't met with annoyance. Just like that, Bakura was already asleep.

 

“Good morning, sunshine!” The words barely prepared Bakura for the onslaught of piercing sunlight as Marik drew their blinds in one swift motion. Mr Tweetums chirped and chattered delightedly from his cage, forcing Bakura to violently shift onto his opposite side, folding his pillow up over his exposed ear. “Ohhh Bakuuuraaa, we don't have all day. Class is in, like, five minutes.”

“I'm not going to class,” Bakura grunted.

“That doesn't sound like something an Evil Star Student would say!” Marik tugged at the sheets covering the lower half of Bakura's body and then paused. He giggled. “Too bad I already used that rod-in-your-pocket joke, because it would be _way_ more fitting right now--”

In an instant Bakura grabbed the sheets back, an intense blush flooding his cheeks and he averted his gaze. “Don't you have somewhere to be, Marik?”

“Yeah, that's why I'm getting you up— _though it seems you've gotten yourself up HAHA_ \--”

“PISS OFF, MAR—“ When Bakura turned to look at his roommate, his own words crashed into each other and he was left with momentary silence.He could no longer focus on what he was about to say, only on what he saw. “What in the hell are you wearing?”

A grin lit up Marik's face as he struck a pose. “The Villain Academy official uniform!” He donned a fitted maroon blazer, the signature VA crest embroidered in gold on the left breast, and a matching tie hung from the collar of an off-white button-up undershirt. Below the belt he wore a pair of ass-hugging black slacks. “Doesn't it remind you of that one anime with the host club and the homoerotic undertones?”

“That sounds like every anime, Marik.”

“Come on, it's the one with the cross-dressing and the rich people and the... and... Vic Mignogna...”

“...Still sounds like every anime.”

They shared a long stare, though Bakura had to look away. “Are you going to get the frig out of bed or not?” Marik asked.

Bakura relaxed back against his pillow, a sly smirk on his lips. “I can't go to class if I don't have a uniform--” But just as quickly as he could speak, Marik held up a second blazer. Bakura sighed.“Why do I even bother?”

 

“Pick up the pace, Bakura! We can't be late!” Marik was ahead by a couple meters, walking briskly along the cobblestone path toward the main campus.

Bakura lagged behind, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his undershirt. “Why is it that I always end up in outfits like this?” he grumbled. No matter how hard he attempted to keep his eyes anywhere else, they constantly fell back on Marik's ass, tantalized by the way his trousers clutched it with every step.

“You should just embrace the sexy, Bakura,” Marik reasoned, his arms outstretched.

“I'm embracing it, all right.”

Just as they reached the entrance to the main courtyard, a massive bell at the highest peak of the castle swung heavily and rang through the air, the sound vibrating in Bakura's ears with each toll. He was glad Marik hadn't seen him seize up when the sound surprised him.

“Look what you've done, Bakura!” Marik howled amidst the noise. “Class is starting and we're late!”

They cleared the courtyard and entered the school at the West Entrance. “I would say being late sounds rather villainous,” Bakura tried to reason as their feet tapped against the glistening marble floors of the central corridor.

“Being late to school is for protagonists, Bakura. How you got accepted to this academy is beyond me!” Marik threw his arms in the air, glancing back at his new roommate. “In my professional opinion, being on time is a _very_ evil thing to do.”

“Once again, I think you're taking all of this much too seriously,” Bakura sighed.

“Hey, hey,” Marik slowed his pace for a moment. “If anyone here is taking anything too seriously, that would be you--” just then, a solid beep pierced through the hallway. When it cleared, a crackling sound fizzed from speakers built into the walls all down the corridor. Marik and Bakura paused before reaching a set of stairs to the second floor.

A voice came from the speaker. “Eh hem. Brains brains brains brains brains brains--”

Marik bristled. “ _No frigging way they have Zombie Boy doing the announcements again!_ Bakura, we're taking a detour.”

Instead of heading up the stairs, Marik made a beeline down the same hall they were in, somehow moving faster than he was previously. All the while, the same voice continued through the loudspeakers, reverberating through the halls: “Brains brains... Brain brains brains....”

“Marik, what in the--” Bakura couldn't keep up with him. Marik lithely dodged a couple cloaked figures rounding the next corner, though Bakura bounded straight into them. Without saying a word or looking at who he had run into, he gathered his bearings and made the turn just in time to see Marik's form entering a door on the right side at the end of the hall.

Bakura halted in his tracks when he heard the words blasting through the speakers change. “Give me the friggin mic, Zombie Boy or you'll be cleaning up after the next—Good morning, Villain Academy!” Marik's voice was suddenly louder. Bakura simply leaned against the nearby wall, rubbing his temples in secondhand embarrassment. “It is I, Marik Sebastian Ishtar III, here to make the only announcement worth listening to in English! Or whatever language we're supposed to be speaking! It's a little ambiguous!

“Today Marik's Evil Club will be holding an impromptu meetup to celebrate our newest _totally evil_ member! Be there or be _totally lame_! Okay, okay! I'm leaving, for frigs sake.”

Marik met Bakura back out in the hallway, a perturbed expression reading through on his face. “ _Anyway,”_ Marik picked up. “Ready for class?”

“Not really.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I really hate to do this, but this fic is going on hiatus for the foreseeable future. A lot of real life projects are taking up my time, but someday I'll come back to this!
> 
> If you want to keep up with me, feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://banana-ghoul.tumblr.com)


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